


The Thin Man and The King

by KennyCosgrove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, D/s, Leather, M/M, Masturbation, Spanking, Toys, Voyeurism, webcam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennyCosgrove/pseuds/KennyCosgrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick and Death are NSFW bloggers, admirers of each others respective content. But will they ever meet at the middle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working out the fluidity of the story, I'm still sculpting this. I'd expect changes in the future, so keep an eye out.

A long, heavy duffel bag was set so delicately against the hardwood floor, the hum of lightbulbs (two amber colored lights propped from the wall above the bed frame,) and the sound of delicate breathing the only sounds in the room. A slender hand slid against the leather, finding a zipper that was pulled slowly, separating the teeth. There were large windows behind him, twenty floors high, a pleasant look to the night of the city behind him, lights, lights, buildings, and it was all so quiet in this tiny room with the Far Too Large bed being its occupant, with the thin man pressed into a suit.  
Across from the bed was a small nightstand, a laptop opened atop it with a small light watching the thin man - he felt the many eyes behind it so soon and so quickly, he was exhilarated. Of course, his expression didn't display this, and yet his throat was tight and the blood was hot under his skin. Reaching into the bag, the man retrieved a long black metal bar, two handcuffs fastened to the ends of it, and looked back into the bag, his face composed, stoic - he soon retrieved a small, black, velvet bag (one of many, perhaps?) tossing it onto the bed as well. The black bag was removed, the thin man acting as if there were no camera watching him, the potentially millions of eyes not providing him any sort of alter in his composure. Sitting down on the side of the bed, he carefully removed the jacket upon his shoulders, followed by unbuttoning the vest, setting them carefully upon a bench that breached from the large window, an unknown location to the frame of the lens.  
Looking out to the horizon, the man watched cars move steadily along the streets below, many lights on and off and away in the many buildings that lined his sight, sliding the stark white shirt from his shoulders, folding it carefully and setting it with the other articles. The thin man stood, swiftly and quickly pulling his belt from its loops, shucking his trousers and everything underneath along with it, folding it all neatly to follow suit. Shutting his eyes a moment, he took a deep breath. He could hear his pulse in his ears. He timed it with the watch on his wrist before removing that as well, setting it on the nightstand before turning his attention back to the laptop, raven-dark hair slightly disheveled over his eyes. The sheets were soft against his skin, splaying his legs over the bed, slowly and fluidly, keeping his attention on the eyes watching him. The long bar, the small bag, were set aside, for now, the thin man settling himself, naked, now, onto his knees in the middle of the Far Too Large bed, fit for a king.  
His hands slid down against his thighs, his eyes looking down to them. His thin hand moved to take hold of his cock, moving his hand along the shaft, sliding his fingertips against the head briefly before sliding back up and down its length. A slow sigh escaped him, hair sliding from its normal places and into his line of vision, biting his lip as his attention looked up to the screen. Interesting how such a small piece of plastic and metal and glass could uphold such terror for some, and yet vanity for him, as well as millions and billions elsewhere, for whatever purpose. His just happened to be much more filthy. Working himself hard soon enough, a small hum left his lips as his hand left his cock, brushing some hair from his face, he slid back up onto the bed, his back against the headboard. Not too terribly far away from the lens, well enough to still see him entirely. It's exactly everything he wanted, to be gazed upon with wanton behavior.  
Turning his head to attend to the small bag, he pulled at the fastens holding it together, strings giving way to the inside, retrieving what appeared to be a cock ring, a vibrating cock ring at that (something new, he might say). Looking at it a moment before unraveling the cord attached to a small remote device, he gripped it tightly in his hand before moving to slowly, slowly slide the black ring over his length, a small sound erupting from his person through his thin, parted lips. Breathe, breathe, he thought a moment as he felt himself adjust to the tightness of his bind, turning his attention to the camera a moment. This is just the easy part, he thought.  
The thin man reached for the long metal bar, metal cuffs dangling from either sides of it. Shuddering a moment, he felt his cock throb as he struggled to grip it tightly, the ring around his base tightening as he rolled his hips against the bed. A thin wrist slid into one of the cuffs, sliding his bones against it a moment to be sure he wouldn't bruise them too badly. Using his free hand, he slid the metal gears together, grinding them against each other with a click, one hand fastened tightly. Another small sound left him, lifting the bar over the head board, a divider held it behind him, restraining his movement. Swiftly, he put the remote device in his bound hand, before sliding his wrist into the free metal cuff. The pressure in his cock was building up here, lack of friction was maddening, he would have to work quickly, he didn't want this to drag on for too long, of course. For his sake as well as his lovely audience.  
Using his thumb and forefinger, he bent his wrist down carefully, using what leverage he had to snap the metal in place, click click snap - shutting it. The hard part was done, and he'd done it so well, albeit far too tight - he would be red and bruised, for certain. The thin man turned his head, placed and bound to the headboard, unmovable from where he was propped up like an idol, offered up to whoever's fantasies he divulged in. The thumb of his hand that held the control, the cord dangled and slid against his skin, linked to the base of his cock - the thumb slid against a rolling switch with a click, a dull sensation growing onto his cock, his mouth going dry, wrists moving against the restraints. The metal was sharp against his skin, but nonetheless a lovely pain.  
His mouth opened, his head tilting back as the thin man felt the slide of precome against the underside of his cock, his thumb, click, click, clicking the device in his hand, his cock red and aching, now, wrists twisting and carved against the metal that bound him, unable to move. It was such a glorious sight, such a figure torn down and apart of his own volition for his audience, his hips rising from the bed, rolling himself down against it as his arms twisted. Breathing heavily, it was easy to see his ribs poking from his skin, his chest rising and falling from being propped up on such a display. Thin, pale arms twisted, rolling his head back before dropping it forward, hair falling into his face. He was a wreck, and it was all according to plan.  
Enchanted by his own behaviors, a short choke of a sound left the thin man as a bout of precome left his cock, sliding down on to the sheets, staining him before his back lurched forward, another short cry leaving him as he came, his head rolling back again as come surged forward, out onto the bed, his cock throbbing painfully under the vibrations, and yet they persisted, the thin man too stricken to even realize he was still holding the control in his hand. Hoarse breathing left him, come staining him, a thin sheen of sweat sliding over his skin, his hips still rolling, hypersensitive jolts from his nervous system shooting up his spine; it was the ultimate control.  
Removing himself from these restraints had been hell, sliding himself up onto his knees to roll his shoulders forward to breach the bar from behind the headboard, bending his thumb to click-click against the fasten on his now red and sore and torn wrist, his arm dropping free, to unhinge the other one. Hissing softly as he removed the ring from his cock, he was still sensitive, rest would certainly be in order. Attention turned back to the camera, back to the laptop recording his show, such a display he had put on, today - it was a rare occasion that such depravity would be in such media, for him, of course, it had to have been a treat. He was feeling generous as he dropped the curtain. Stopping the recording for impromptu editing was ideal, but time of course was a bitter enemy of the thin man, and always had been, ever so busy with such little time for such pleasures to himself.  
To say that this was an act of vanity would be correct in every respect, there wasn't anything to be hidden or to be held at arms length - no, the thin man reveled in the body he was given and he wanted nothing more than to be gazed upon with hunger, from a distance, of course. One knowing him may not agree that he holds this mentality, as a figure he was of stoicism. Resting back upon the bed, he rested a hand over his eyes, noticing he wasn't wearing his watch, remembering that he had taken it off moments prior.  
The room spun; it was terribly quiet with his lips parted and no occupancy with no one other than himself. It was better this way. An age almost passed before the thin man moved, padding his bare feet to the bathroom, flicking the buzzing fluorescent light on - hues of whites and blues were almost dilapidated, here, easily significantly colder than the rest of the room on the outside. A stark opposition of blues as opposed to the amber lights behind him. Water ran warm in the trickling sink, running a wash cloth underneath, briefly running the cloth over his skin, catching his own gaze in the mirror attached to the wall. The thin man watched, a moment, sliding strands of hair from his line of sight, his lips were dry, his expression gaunt, his cheekbones hollowing the frame of his face. A soft sigh breathed through his nose, looking away from the face that opposed him, sliding his hand along the wall with caulk crumbling beneath his finger tips as the light flicked off, venturing back into the room with the Far Too Large bed, fit for a king, as he could still feel the eyes of the stars and the eyes of the city watching him wash the amber lights away.


	2. Chapter 2

The doors were stark and white and the raucous laughter and behaviors behind him were fading quickly. The day was terrible and long and holding face in the face of ants and sheep of men was a chore; exhausting. The King had grown weary of such trivalries, and yet such is the way of life that he had found himself infesting. Foot falls echoed against the tiled floors, weaving through the halls away from people, walls white and clean and the only presence upon them was The King's passing hand, large and afflicting. Were he to strike upon the drywall, it would crumble beneath his bones and skin, just as all else would in time. Gripping the handles tightly, the sounds but a murmur behind him, his dark eyes breaching the room behind these doors. The white walls behind him broke at the entrance, into the room with hardwood floors, the room with the hardwood walls, a black oak that flooded like ink.  
It was quiet, almost silent in here as compared to the outside. The King preferred it this way, he preferred his solitude, he preferred himself opposed to the company of others. Clicking the locks behind him, the night crept through the windows, finding its way into the room as a lamp was flicked on in a corner. It was commonplace for him to indulge in his surroundings, examining his terrain to ensure it entirely his, no matter how small the environment. His office of course was his preferred grounds of domain, seeing that most of his work took place here, his work of which, he took an incredible amount of pride in. His work is what made him king, and his work would ensure that he would stay there; of course, and doing whatever it took to provide his own security of this position. The King slid his hands along the solid oak desk, his feet tapping along the floor beside it, moving around to seat himself in the chair.  
Time was lovely, time gave him everything he needed to continue to rule; Pride and Wrath were The King's greatest attributes and that which he used to his utmost advantage, and time delivered unto them entirely. He had all the time in the world, entirely true. He did not let time manipulate him into methods of procrastination, everything needed to be done by him, and in his way of working, and his power. He held everything and had everything delivered unto him on a silver platter, and would continue to revel in this divine existence he held. There wasn't anything that he couldn't obtain by the precious privileges he held that he had continued to fight to obtain, and there wouldn't be anything that could take all of this power away from him. He wanted it all, and he would have it.  
The hands of The King slid against the closed laptop rested at his desk, sliding it open. It bore the only light in the room save for the lamp in the corner, humming as it woke, its fans whirring to life. There were numerous emails that he should rather attend to, ah, but a night of celebration this is, he may as well take a moment to find himself distracted - and despite his drive and influence, no one is free of the curse of sloth, on occasion. And of course, yet we are left with gluttony and lust. Not particularly a creature of lust himself, perhaps to the passerby, but afflicted by the wretched curse of a terrible combination of the two was a heavy weight on his conscience. Although saying that The King was subject to the behaviors of sin goes without saying, perhaps King is synonymous with them. He has never met The Thin Man, but he is aware of him, entirely. There is an incredible amount of fury that comes with pulling back the curtain to find him, knowing that to obtain him is an obstacle that cannot yet be met.  
There were clicks of the keyboard, quick and swift, finding his way back to the page that was occupied by The Thin Man, bound by ropes, trapped in leather, he reminded The King of a small bird trapped beneath electrical tape. He stopped scrolling, his face complacent as he found him constricted by a collar and a leash, laid out beneath a table, the leash tied to the underside of the table- it made him think The Thin Man were left here, waiting for someone. It proposed the idea that he had been claimed by someone, but no, never, never was that implication made, there was no other that had owned The Thin Man. His pale skin was never marred by afflictions of another, free to own, The King mused, chuckling.  
Photos of The Thin Man stained with come, bound by ropes and other leather things, there were no words to be shared between him and those that found their eyes upon his bones. The King found himself caught on those bright glossy eyes gaping as a peculiar toy penetrated The Thin Man, he was stricken with want - to obtain him would be no easy feat, but of course, when there is lust and gluttony hand in hand, there would be no force that could keep The King's hands gripping that mop of messy hair and dragging him to bed on his knees. Soon enough, a word document was open, and he began his propositions.  
  
 _I can admire a person who indulges in their filthy depravities._  
 _There is something to be said about those who embrace the taboos created by society and its ills, and choose to disclose them to the mysterious and malicious internet. A true shame if you were a figure of reputation. I sometimes wonder what you have to lose, what I could take from you. This isn't a threat, just a simple observation - this is all about desires, yes? I digress._  
 _Although, I often wonder what sort of lengths you will go to for a Dominant. Not that it's led to believe that you have one, no, that much is abundantly clear. Oh, what one would do to their submissive if they found such vulgar behaviors on the internet. I would have absolutely none of that._  
  
The King wonders if he would have his attention, yet.  
  
 _We can start simple. I'd like to of course make the proclamation that I wish to leave an impression upon you and your actions. I suppose you could be saying I'd like to make a few requests. Compromise yourself, just for me._  
 _Clean up your come for me, would you? I'd like to see you take an order. Just to see how creative you can truly get; getting yourself off and tying yourself up all pretty can be beneficial for more than one party. I'd like to see a real show._  
  
He'll leave this an anonymous note under the slide of his door, so to speak, and he'll be ever so patient for a reciprocation. Slowly bringing The Thin Man apart under his influence, his pale neck under his hand all in precious due time.


	3. Chapter 3

The door would close constantly far too loud. The gears and switches of a deadbolt locking into place - the incredibly high ceilings absorbed the sound. It lingered, and the windows greeted the Thin Man again today. A slow sigh escaped him, his eyes finding the hard wood floor, his coat sliding from his shoulders to the floor carelessly. There was an aroma of leather and pine that flooded his senses, shutting his eyes as he lifted his head once again. Home. Home he was, for the night - it was a relief, really - the only place he could truly and entirely wrap up in himself. The Thin Man left his shoes behind, flicking a light on, the amber lights that slid from the walls above his bed flooding the room left behind him. The apartment didn't occupy much, it was a corner of a building, long, twenty foot floor to ceiling windows, looking out into the expanse of the city, the sun long gone for the day. A clock thrummed in the distance, matching the behaviors of the Thin Man's steps, sounding out .

There was a quiet moment between the Thin Man and himself, and he was contented with his surroundings - stripping himself free of his clothing, he moved into the bathroom, flicking the buzzing light on in the dark room in shades of blue. Turning himself in the direction of the mirror, he watched himself, eyes searching and roaming his skin for imperfections. Fingers slid against the protruding ribs at his middle, sliding up to press against his collar, the bones pale against the soft pale skin. Funny, how someone who spent so much time alone, someone who thrived on their isolation, seeked the company of another's hands on his fragile frame. Such a silly thought, he shook his head, turning the faucet on, running warm water onto his face, strands of hair falling out of place as he shut his eyes, sighing softly. The washroom he occupied was melancholy, he didn't like spending more time than he needed to in here. Thin fingers slid against the porcelain of the sink, sliding away as his feet shuffled from the room - the light accenting the dark blue of the room flicking off and away, shutting the door behind him. 

The Thin Man's frame moved itself to slide into his bed, greeted by the softness of his sheets, greeted by the comfort of a place to lay his head, a long and weary day behind him. He turned his spine, the sound of his bones popping made way to break the silence in the room, feeling his bones turn and slide underneath his skin. He seemed malnourished, but, he was anything but - just simply frail. Sliding his hands over his arms, his attention made contact with the contusions on his arms and wrists, numerous burns and bruises and scars and various blemishes left behind by his own behaviors. He had never met someone so worthy or significant to marr his skin, nor did he ever think he would - he was a perfect alabaster form, tarnished by no one but himself - there would be none worthy. Perhaps it was a point of pride, in these devious behaviors he participated in, perhaps it was a sense of power he withheld, knowing that all of these characters who adored his depravities, would never get the opportunity to afflict the Thin Man themselves. A smile moved against his thin lips, sliding his hands against his thighs. He felt perfect.

Laptop sitting idle on the bed beside him, he opened it, the fans and mechanics whirring to life as the screen blipped awake, brightly, illuminating the features of his face, editing programs abound, touching on a couple of keys as he closed them, for now. His blog was his namesake, as descriptive as he may even appear, little to no words with the exception of his photography and his videography. The Thin Man was a sight to behold and he relished in the attention he received, knowing these men and women could not and would not touch his form, a figure aching and swelling with desire. Sliding his slender fingers over the touch pad, exploring the various commemorative left behind his current circulating display - along with this anonymous pledge that had been left behind, The Thin Man raising an eyebrow curiously. He could feel the rope tighten around his neck just simply reading it - the behaviors and intentions that were exhibited sent a twist up his thin spine; in all this time that he had put himself upon the alter, no one had come to vocalize or proclaim their intentions toward him. It was slightly jarring, but he was not stricken crude. Smiling softly, a low chuckle escaped his lips - what an adoring fan, he thought, and what sort of host would he be if he did not deliver unto this newly adorned saboteur?

Almost instantly (obediently, perhaps?), The Thin Man sought his software for recording, sitting close to the camera, as opposed to his usual distances; never giving anyone the opportunity to gaze upon him so closely. The message itself had already given him a rise, a heat coiling in his belly as he felt himself already half hard at the notion of hands gripping his bones tightly, dry, calloused hands dragging him across the room, pushing him into the wall as he moaned wantonly for more, more, more. The light of his camera blipped on and he began his procedures, his hand gripping his cock in his hand, stroking himself lazily, sliding his free hand up his middle, slowly sliding his fingertips against his ribs. Laying sideways on the bed, it didn't quite expose his face, rather just the simple gape of his mouth, his breathing faster, faster, as he spread his legs apart, teeth biting into his thin lips. He could feel the precome begin to slip from the head of his cock, the soft skin there blushing a bright red with him massaging his fingers slowly over it, feeling it twitch and throb hard under his grasp. How desperately he felt the sudden desire to know his captor, their motives evident enough. 

The Thin Man had been in this tall apartment building all on his very own for so very long, the occasional visit from his daughter - and yet no one made motion to claim him. He was very old, and yet so very virile - even here indulging himself in his desires and depravities, there was no one but himself. The notion of him in company of another was almost laughable, and yet, not entirely impossible. The thought escaped his mind as a short choked moan left his lips, his back twisting from the bed, inhaling sharply as he felt himself get closer, closer, his head spun with lust and a fury that tick tick ticked loudly behind his eyes, it was incessant as he felt his bones crack and pop underneath his skin. The sensation of feeling the veins in his cock pulse beneath his hands, fisting his cock quickly, now, his free hand gripping his sheets tightly, he was terrible at keeping his mouth shut, a lesson he must be taught. Haughty moaning sounded from him as his hips bucked from the bed, The Thin Man jolted alive, alive, as he came. Streams of come shot against his chest, his belly, making an incredible mess of himself as he tugged his cock back to cover himself with it. A work of art, vulgar and so well behaved. Whining softly, he moved his fingers against the mess, stretching a strand of it between his thumb and middle finger, his tongue curling between them. Repeating this, he slid the come against his skin, licking it clean off of his fingers, making such a terrible show of the act as he slid it against his lips, against his tongue - another soft moan escaping him. Sucking it clean from his fingers, he sighed contentedly, a smirk adorning his lips as he ceased his recording.

The form of his bones standing from the bed, his heart hammered in his chest - it was such a simple task, jerking himself off, cleaning himself for the display of his lovely saboteur, whisking him by his ankle and across the hard wood floors beneath his bare feet. Such a lovely creature, The Thin Man was, and now here he was, playing a travesty for the masses and he adored every inch of his skin that was revealed - the pride that flooded his skin for serving and obeying his request without question, he'd treated himself quite well, for the night. Striding into the melancholy bathroom in shades of blue, the lights flicked on as he shut the door behind him, preparing a well deserved bath in his vanity. 

-

It was in The King's nature to be competitive, but to be bested by a challenge in ways that he had not even fathomed made him absolutely furious. Of course, The Thin Man did exactly as he was told, without question, so he wasn't...entirely upset - but the sight upon the video donned with the tag '#mundane', no, no, how dare this creature play coy with The King. Dark eyes narrowed as he watched the display of obedience before him, the thought of his hands gripping the back of The Thin Man's neck tightly, tugging him across a crowded room, displaying his dominance by this action alone. He needed to act, The King needed to give his attention to this behavior. Perhaps it was because he wanted more - he wanted more and an identity to proclaim his power; not that it wasn't already exhibited by his already given name and his work and his success, but over The Thin Man is where he wished to conquer.

A drawer opened to his left, The King reaching and rummaging inside to retrieve a thin, long box, donned with a golden embossed with a gaudy logo in the middle. It opened with a soft sound, the air compressing the silk lined insides escaping. The King set the box on his desk, revealing a pair of dark umber leather gloves, reaching in delicately as he examined the soft fabric. A smirk played onto his lips, devious as the sudden thought of his gloved hands swatting and slapping against the pale skin of The Thin Man, bruising and marring him in ways he couldn't even imagine, burned by ropes as he would be tied taut to the floor, dark leather shoes pressing into the middle of his chest, compressing the lungs beneath his skin as he would cry out - pleading and begging for The King to cease.

He needed to stop - he needed to focus, no need to get himself worked up so quickly, so soon, but oh, the affliction and the fire that brewed in his chest - he needed the coals and gasoline to feed this red fury. Placing the gloves gently into the box once again, a few swift motions on the keys of his keyboard, motioning and clicking appropriately, he moved to create his own art, his own display of power against The Thin Man - he wouldn't be won so easily through anonymous pledges and decrees of his teeth against the porcelain skin. The King moved to photograph his hands stretching into the gloves, tight and almost massive, everything above his tie was a mystery, forsaking the idea that The Thin Man may have a notion to his identity - probably not, a shame, but to reveal himself so soon was not part of his plan, not now. The material against his skin was getting him off, how disgusting of him, especially in this suit, his cock staining the fabric with precome. He bit his lip, he would have to nurse his desires quickly before he was called into the throes of his adoring environment outside of his locked office. Anonymous no more, he reached out to The Thin Man, giving his praise and his proclamation.

_A quick response, that's very good. Somehow I didn't expect any less. I figure I must return the favor, seeing that you've done so well to do as I asked, without question or complaint. I appreciate you, I certainly do, as I'm sure you've discovered my intentions._   
_I think you would be stunning in leather, and be stunning you will, post haste. I don't wish to become bored with you, not so soon, not so early. And, seeing as you potentially as my submissive,_

The King paused, smirking at the ideal, chuckling softly to himself, behind his terrible and poisonous lips. 

_I don't see you as wanting me to get bored of you, desperation would be such an ugly feature on such a marble statue form as yourself. Keep yourself interesting, I'd like to tie a pretty string around your neck._


	4. Chapter 4

Work came so naturally, to Daughter Dearest, that the fact that she had excelled in an environment such as this was of no surprise, to her. Continuing to climb the ladder of impressions and performing at a rate that was so very admirable, compared to the co-workers around her, was not something to be taken for granted, of course. Her boss, the one that granted her this job, the one that always gave her that pat on the back, advising her congratulations on another fantastic day, with words like sport, and champ, she couldn't help but find him ever ridiculous. Of course, she had to admire his drive, his ambition. The King was peculiar, but not someone she would want to see outside of work, someone she didn't invest an incredible amount of attention to - he was her boss, there is no reason for her to go farther than necessary to make an impression, her record spoke for itself. Perhaps she takes after her father in that regard. Although, it certainly depends on the circumstance, Daughter Dearest and The Thin Man could not be necessarily compared - though he was very proud of her.  
  
A portfolio slid against her hands, sliding it into a briefcase, greeting and saying goodbye to employees for the weekend, their white shirts and black ties an incredible eyesore. She sighed as she saw the elevator doors close, sliding against the wall, slouching a moment before the doors slid open again, Daughter Dearest standing again, catching sight of The King, her boss, with that stupid son of a bitch smirk on his face. Nodding as he entered, he greeted her. "Fantastic report this week," he said with that idiotic bravado, like he had something to be proud of. Of course, he did, seeing that he was the head of an empire. Not that Daughter Dearest had cared much. Although she would play the role of employee as best to her ability, nodding in agreement. "Yes, I think we'll surpass our goals for the month, at this rate."  
  
The King watched her, evaluating her behavior. Smirking, he nodded. "Can't do it without you,"  
Daughter Dearest shook her head, "I think things would move just as smoothly-"  
"I won't take modesty for an answer," he grinned, interrupting her as the elevator doors opened again. "I'm proud to have you as part of the team," The King moved to leave the elevator upon another floor, one she was unfamiliar with, of course, she liked it to remain that way. She liked to remain as far away as possible, and simply do her job.  
"Of course," she said, moving to quickly as best to her ability, begin hammering upon the button to shut the doors again as he left. He had disgusting attributes just by his demeanor, she could tell. Shaking her head, Daughter Dearest exhaled, looking up to the red numbers on the wall, counting down until she came back down to Earth.  
She knew the way to her father's by heart, of course, as any daughter does. The weekend was always a welcome relief, seeing that the opportunities to visit him were becoming slimmer and slimmer - her job and her responsibilities were beginning to stack a great deal, and there had to be compromises. They got along just as well as any father and daughter do, not necessarily by blood, but by unity. She was very young, very alone, just as he; abandoned, he adopted her, so to speak. They don't speak of it, they simply continue to live, continue to thrive, the origins of their happiness was of no concern to them.  
  
Daughter Dearest pulled into the parking lot behind the tall, tall building her father lived in - he was bound to be home, it was getting late, she owed him dinner, anyway. It was pounding with rain, she was so terribly close to rescheduling. Reaching into the backseat of her car, she opened her umbrella upon opening the door, hurrying her way inside. It was strange how Daughter Dearest occupied elevators quite frequently, their destinations leading into curious places - work, home, work, dad's, home, work, she tried her hardest not to think too hard about it. They were just elevators. The long hall was vacant, so very high up, large floor-to-ceiling windows were mounted on the ends, Daughter Dearest finding The Thin Man's door soon before their display.  
  
He hadn't exactly been sleeping, much, lately, it showed in his eyes - far too much for him to do, far too much occupying his attention - nothing he could evidently mention to her. The Thin Man smiled upon opening the door, embracing Daughter Dearest in the door way. "I'm sorry if i'm late," she said, smiling as she kissed his cheek, The Thin Man opening the door to her to allow her inside his small, quaint abode.  
"No trouble," he assured her, finishing the buttons on his shirt before shutting the door behind her, watching her as she slid herself into a nearby chair, exhaling softly as her briefcase slapped onto the table. Daughter Dearest sighed softly, "It's pouring out,"  
"And you're exhausted,"  
She smiled at his observation, it was what she was going to say next, of course. "And you would like to reschedule," The Thin Man smiled, moving to sit beside her.  
"This doesn't mean I don't owe you dinner," she said, pointing at him, sticking to her guns, with this.  
"I can abide that," he nodded. "I didn't remember until twenty minutes ago, anyway. I'd rather not go out into this, anyway." Daughter Dearest shut her eyes, listening to him. The latch on her briefcase was exposed, The Thin Man's fingers deftly sliding a large, laminated packet from its casing. It was clearly something work oriented. It looked boring, a big face with a title above it and its contents - this month's report. Daughter Dearest needed to revise it and calculate percentages for next month's goals; terribly boring and arduous work. How she did it was beyond all of The Thin Man's comprehension. Then again, she was good at it.  
  
"Who's this?" he asked, raising a brow at the smirking face on the cover. He wasn't unattractive by any means, but this was evidently someone who knew that, and exploited it, for whatever reason.  
"My boss." Daughter Dearest leaned forward, watching him as he flipped through the pamphlet.  
A snort sounded from The Thin Man, chuckling. "He's on every page."  
Daughter Dearest scoffed, shaking her head. "He's full of himself."  
"Being the big head of this company, I would suppose so." he smirked. "Certainly not your type."  
She groaned. "I've heard stories, I'm not even gonna go there."  
The Thin Man laughed, sliding the pamphlet back into the case. "Office buildings are breeding grounds for aristocrats of this sort, you have my sympathy."  
The Thin Man stood, sliding his hand against her shoulder. "Wine?"  
"Please!" Daughter Dearest announced, raising a hand compliantly. The Thin Man smiled, pouring two goblets with the dark red elixir, moving to slide back next to her.  
"I appreciate you coming to visit," it wasn't as if he had anyone visiting him - it was better that way, he preferred solitude. Daughter Dearest smiled, tilting her head as she gripped his hand tightly.  
"The company of anyone else would be a bore," she said, taking a sip of her wine.  
  
\--  
  
The sight of come sliding onto The Thin Man's lips is what struck The King to the extent of his mouth parting, inhaling sharply as he gripped the arm rest of his office chair, his cock throbbing beneath his grip, feeling his face begin to flush. The hands on the clock across the room read nearest to four-am, The King finding himself distracted at a party - every face seemed non existent, and he blamed it on the drink. Blamed it on time continuing to push and press himself at the hands of it's cruelty, all too entirely tired and the game of power and business consuming him. He needed a drink and he needed to leave. Leaving at one, he was sick of being on his feet. Surrounded in a room of equals was exhausting and his nature thrived on his presence. His presence of power, his presence of being the biggest cat in the room.  
  
And here, alone, watching The Thin Man (perhaps unknowingly) submit to him, he was. Time was unfriendly for The King, he had to twist its arm into his liking - typically it gave - and the fact that he's here simply watching this creature degrade himself for him, there could be only so much that could be done until it became repetitious, until it became useless to him - and who was The King to waste time on a good opportunity? He came into his hand, a short handed sound leaving him. The King began laughing, he was just as much of a player in this as he was making The Thin Man out to be. He had to get the upper hand, to make his intentions evident. The behaviors between them like this were unacceptable - he needed more.  
  
 _It has come to my attention that your continuing intent to do everything that is asked of you does not go unnoticed by me. While I am grateful, I'm beginning to wonder what you won't do, or what extent you're willing to go to satisfy. Seeing that you're on such a mission to please me, I am willing to go out of my way to request for your company. I almost want to go as far as to say, if you don't meet me here, at the time and place designated, I might simply have to find my way to hunt you. I hold no ill intentions toward you, just simply exhibiting upon my wants. I am typically very, very good at that - and I trust you'll be good at observing them. I strongly advise you not to be late._  
  
The King provided an address to a restaurant on the edge of town, one embellished with flashing lights, large canopies on the outside, all sheltered by a gate. He would provide description to the outside employees, allowing The Thin Man entry to the regal establishment. The King was entirely proud of himself for this, leaning back into his chair, smirking, his eyes narrowed, aligning his capabilities into place, assuring his victory. 

\--  
  
This had to be a joke.  
  
This is something that was only on terrible TV shows, there is absolutely no way that The Thin Man was awake, alive, and seeing this. He scoffed as his laptop lit the darkness of his apartment, Daughter Dearest asleep on the couch across from him. The Thin Man was almost furious that he was being played along in this charade. Of course...it was his fault to begin with, indulging this mysterious provocateur. Damn them, he thought - he feared the worst, some revolting character coming to wring him dry and shove him into a gutter. Yet the place requested of his company was not of ill refute - a very elegant restaurant, a very well populated part of town, a very...rich, part of town. So terribly gaudy, The Thin Man was not impressed in the least. The fear of being maimed by some internet predator to a thin old man indulging in sexual depravities, wasn't exactly ideal for hooking up with someone. That's entirely what it was made to look like. If he even dared mention to Daughter Dearest that he had an admirer that had intended his company, she would urge so quickly and urge so strongly that he go - but it wasn't as if though he could indulge her the terms of their acquaintance.  
  
It would rain all week long, it would rain up until the next following Friday, The Thin Man's dark shoes shined and umbrella gripped tightly in his hands as he would approach the brightly lit commotion, dressed to the nines. Kind and smiling faces greeted eachother, someone moving to take his umbrella, as well as his jacket.  
  
He was expected.  
  
The Thin Man was almost furious - not by the fact he had arrived here and been catered to so well, so suddenly seated at a small table, seated in the back, surrounded by faces he had recognized on the news, recognized in newspapers, he felt entirely out of place. No, the reason for his anxious behavior, brows furrowed as he stared at the table infront of him, the paper card eloquently scribed 'Reserved', was the fact he had no idea what to make of this. The Thin Man was typically prepared for situations that met his attention, especially ones of this nature (everyone always seemed to want the same things, anymore), but being courted by a ghost was not ideal. Early enough, he watched the characters congregate and converse, he himself alone in the dark corner, lit by an overhead light, surrounded by red curtains, resting his chin in his hand as he watched the expanse of tables filled around him.  
  
He had always hated crowds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tessa! isn't that something?  
> i intend to shovel these out sooner rather than later, i've already constructed ch5 a great deal, it's important. stay tuned.


	5. Chapter 5

What could have been worse would have been if there was an uproar of applause when The King had made way into the vast room - thankfully, that had not escalated to that point. It would defeat the entire purpose of his scrutiny, it would defeat his attempt to be careful. This wasn't something to be taken lightly, of course, that was rather the intent - to focus all of his energy and everything that had been pent up, onto The Thin Man. He almost wanted to humiliate him (of course, he would within the confines of privacy), call him out on his vulgar behavior (if all were to go to plan, he would not be allowed). Then again, that would be counter intuitive, seeing that The King was the one who had found him; The Thin Man had never asked to be found, especially not with what he portrayed of himself. It was glorious, he felt like a god, reveled and worshiped - The King would tear him down just as swiftly, there was no doubt about that - that was his entire motive, find The Thin Man (he was shocked to see how close he had been the entire time), and obtain him. Keep him to himself.

Entering the restaurant, men and women flocking to wave, to say hello to The King, they all knew of his exploits, his ambitions, he was a glory to them. He would smile, nodding in agreement, nodding in appreciation for the attention, a man taking his coat, leading him to his designated table. The various crowd recognized him, garnered their praise, to which he revered with kindness - he always had, The King was kind, in his exterior, despite his dark intent, despite his upheaval of power, despite his demand to continue to conquer - but fuck all and fuck every other notion The Thin Man might have had, this boy his handsome. Recognizing him almost immediately as he approaches the table, pausing, stopping a moment before it as if he were fawning upon a trophy he had just won. Large, bright teeth shone with a grin, The Thin Man remaining still, watching him - he attempted to remain unamused, watching him as The King sat across from him. The Thin Man recognized him almost immediately, the color draining from his face. Seeing the face of Daughter Dearest's employer was the last face he had expected to see - although stranger things have happened. Didn't change anything - he was handsome, "Good evening," he uttered, his eyes narrowing a moment upon sight of The Thin Man, like claws on skin.

Raising his back, The Thin Man adjusted his posture as The King sat across from him, his hands folded politely upon the table. It took a moment for him to register as he spoke, he could feel the blood rush back to his face. He didn't know where to begin, truly - but here he was. "Good evening," he returned, The King smirking as he heard him speak. Only a voice he had heard in cracks of a moan, a whimper, the lines and tendons of his throat stretching with strain as he approached his orgasm, it was the waitress that approached their table, that broke his concentration, ordering a bottle of wine. They had a long night ahead of them, that much was clear, the tension seething between them. "Wonderful to finally meet you," The King said, a slow smirk sliding onto his lips, The Thin Man remaining stoic. "I hadn't kept you waiting too long, did I?"

"I was early."

The King held his gaze with that response; he had advised him to be punctual, and he certainly hadn't disappointed - this was only the opening of the door, wasn't it? "I'm glad." The King returned, watching as their waitress returned, a bottle of wine, a bucket of ice, and two glasses, pouring it dark and full, the bottle placed into the bucket. "I was worried you might not show," The King started, breaking his gaze before looking out to the vastness of people around them, alerting himself for anyone who were to approach. "I would be so embarrassed, you pulling me along the primrose path, like that, how could I not want to find my way to your presence?" he grinned, sipping at his wine, The Thin Man doing so as well in return. 

"Flattering," he muttered, looking into the glass, before looking back up to The King. "I never have the intention to disappoint, there was a clear obligation."

"I like someone who listens."

The Thin Man's eyes narrowed, pursing his lips. Having someone call upon him, having someone take interest in him was...suspect, perhaps - he would have to keep on his toes, to ensure The King's intentions. He was someone who made it evident of something they wanted, and they were used to getting it - The Thin Man wouldn't break so easily - he wasn't about to beat around the bush.

"I'm not a prostitute."  
"I never said you were, if you were a prostitute we would be having an entirely different conversation." The King had prepared for that - The Thin Man was sophisticated, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he wouldn't make this easy.  
"Such as?"  
"Details?"  
"Yes." This was turning into a battle of wits, it was turning into who held the real power - was it The Thin Man, as the object of desire? Or The King, who moved to posses it? The waitress returned, taking orders for food that would not be eaten, simply for show, simply to not imply their intentions - they could be achieving business acquisitions for all anyone knew. It was brought out to them soon enough - small and intricate and terribly for show.  
"We certainly wouldn't be here."  
"Vaguety isn't what I asked for."  
"Think of it as a good thing - I have no intention of paying you. I have no intentions of kicking you out into an alley." The King's gaze held The Thin Man's lips, watching them curl into his mouth while they spoke, his lips wet, met with the savory caress of wine.  
"I wouldn't have put that past you."   
"You would be wise not to." Either it was first impressions, or the fact that The King had an incredible amount of pride, pride to which he knew how to exhibit and to make evident and spread across the table to step at the front of the line.  
"So I'm evidently led to believe I'm becoming a pet of yours, is that the case?" The King paused after The Thin Man spoke - not wasting any time, are we? He watched him, the prospect evident in his immediate reaction.  
"Pet may be putting it gently, but I'm sure you're aware the idea."  
"Yes, i am entirely aware."   
"Are you getting an attitude with me?" Thus displays the cat and mouse between them, circling eachother with evident intention to proclaim the other - The King could sense the sudden hitch of breath upon his approach to The Thin Man - the desire to lay at his feet, looking down upon him as his hands slid up his legs-  
"You think your attempts to simply come and claim me as your property from practically nowhere, are supposed to sway me?" The Thin Man speaking broke his concentration, flooding with an almost terror as The Thin Man began to portray himself similar to that of a cobra, remaining absolutely still.  
The instinct to which The Thin Man is suddenly stricken to slide himself into The King's lap is overwhelming, but he keeps his legs crossed between them, continuing to sip at his wine, his fingers sliding along the stem of the glass. The King smirked, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he moved his final piece into check.  
"You're making me look like a villain, when if I remember correctly, you're the one who's playing seducer, you're the one who has followed my orders, you're the one who has shown up here at my request."

The Thin Man pauses, saying nothing - clever, clever animal, this one - strikingly handsome, waved at by women and men and here he was sitting across from The Thin Man, a vulgar creature that exhibited in to his taboos and desires with voyeuristic tendencies. He didn't think for a moment as he began sliding his fingers along silverware with food untouched, a slow smirk framing his thin lips. "I don't find it very appropriate to be having this conversation in front of so many people." they certainly hadn't wasted any time upon getting to know eachother, did they? Curious behavior, between them, they spoke as if that was all they needed - everything else would come within time, everything else would come naturally between them. They had shared more than most strangers in this room.   
The King licked his lips, "Let me fight my way through this crowd, and then I'll lead you out."

Daughter Dearest would have a conniption, The Thin Man wondered if he should say a thing. She knew he had a sort-of date, tonight, he described it to her ("And who are you 'sort-of' seeing?" she nudged him, always eager to know who her father had given his company to aside from her. "Is he cute?" she prompted, egging him along. The Thin Man smiled softly, shrugging his thin shoulders. "I suppose we'll see, I'll have to keep you posted." She was excited to hear the aftermath of this, although perhaps neither of them would anticipate the subject of his attention.). Especially with his company - he shouldn't say anything, he wouldn't want to cause any sort of disruption with her workings.

There were little mannerisms that The King had noticed immediately about The Thin Man, pursing his lips, attempting to keep himself from watching him, finding something behind The King to distract The Thin Man's gaze. The way his lips parted when he was beginning to construct an answer to a difficult question The King may express, deep in thought. It was amusing, little things he would memorize. A large, warm hand slid along the shoulders of The Thin Man, "I'll get your coat, you wait here." he smiled at The Thin Man, his intention evident. Of course, The Thin Man would have been foolish to think otherwise. Returning shortly with his coat, The King moved to lead him along the wall of the dining area, vast and long as it was, through a door to a long, cemented hallway. "Where to?" The King spoke, his voice echoing as their footfalls echoed in tune against the walls down the corridor.

The Thin Man thought for a moment, The King wishing he could look back to watch his lips part as they had a tendency to, as he figured his answer. "I know a place," The Thin Man said, his voice smooth between them. The King stopped at the door, turning his head to look back to him. His eyes held the burn of a predator, The Thin Man stepping just that much closer to him before The King opened the door, leading to a dark car out back, holding said door open. "After you," he rasped under his breath, The Thin Man watching him as he slowly stepped outside. Following suit, The King opened the backseat door of the car, for him. 

"Such a gentleman," The Thin Man smirked in return, breaking that stoicism - jackpot, The King thought to himself. You say that now, he thinks. Of course, he was every bit of a gentleman that a possessive Dom could be, to an extent - The Thin Man shouldn't remotely be surprised. Sliding into the seat beside him, The Thin Man muttered directions to him, relaying it to their driver, sliding into the dark streets, the windows tapped loudly with the fall of rain. "It isn't far," The Thin Man said, crossing his legs, his hands resting in his lap. "We can have a drink at my apartment." 

"I like the thought of that," The King agreed, nodding. "If you don't mind my asking, what is it you do, exactly?" he asked, turning his attention from the rain to his passenger. The Thin Man pulled his phone out, texting Tessa he was on his way back to his apartment (she would reply five minutes later, 'Tell me everything.'). "Incorporation of a chain of funeral homes across the west coast." He certainly looked the part, especially for someone who lived so modestly with that on their resume.   
"Interesting choice of work for someone in my car with such intentions toward me." The Thin Man clenched his teeth, at that - as if there were no faults to you, he thought.   
"You're the one who called me here." he muttered in return, feeling The King shift in the seat next to him, turning to face him, holding that smirk. His voice lowered, clenching his fist, keeping himself from growing restless, straining against the blood flooding his cheeks.   
"Then I suppose we're both suckers for attention, aren't we?" he grinned, the vehicle pulling to a stop infront of the tall apartment building. "How about that drink, then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all better listen to kanye's 'yeezus' album while reading this fic


	6. Chapter 6

Everything was moving in slow motion, it seemed. The Thin Man was walking inside of the lobby, feeling his pulse in his ears, The King that had been sliding his way into his personal life, The King that would be slowly, slowly wrapping his fingers around him and clenching in tightly in his fist, claiming him as his possession. It was unusual, really. He was so partial to his own isolation, being sought out by another was actually nice, for once, seeing that their intention was mutual. Their footfalls echoed in the lobby of the apartment complex, approaching a large, golden elevator. Words were short between them, it seemed. Not that The Thin Man had much to say to him - his mannerisms and reaction to The King's advances were evident enough in their mission. They certainly weren't wasting any time - The King always knew what he wanted and would go to incredible lengths to retrieve it.  
  
The door to the elevator rang, and opened before them, The Thin Man stepping inside, The King following suit. It was quiet, a moment, the doors hanging open to reveal the outside before sliding shut, the gears moving beneath their feet, beginning the trek into the sky. The confides of the small space created an incredible tension, the two of them looking directly in front of themselves. The mechanics of the elevator were loud, the floors counting upward, quickly. "Reach into my jacket pocket," The King broke the silence, that voice of hands wrapped tightly around a throat in the dark, sinister. It took The Thin Man to register for a moment what his intent was, as if he were momentarily stricken with the voice echoing in his ears. Slowly turning to face him, The King turned in return with The Thin Man, standing facing each other. A slender hand reached to the breast pocket, the inside of The King's jacket, fingertips (intentionally?) sliding against his chest before sliding inside. The Thin Man's face remained composed, The King smirking all the while. The Thin Man found something soft, folded carefully as he pulled the fabric free, revealing two dark leather gloves.  
His face twisted a moment, looking up to The King. "That had to have been you," he said, as if he were defeated, he hadn't the slightest who the figure donning regular bouts of leather, gripping belts, gripping bats with these leather gloves. "I can be just as clever," The King smirked, sliding his hand against The Thin Man's, retrieving his gloves slowly, before sliding them onto his hands. "You've got this planned out." The Thin Man smiled, looking up to watch the numbers dwindle closer and closer to his floor, The King releasing a complacent sound.  
  
"I've been planning this for months."  
  
The Thin Man could feel his throat constrict, clenching his jaw at the notion. He shouldn't have been entirely surprised.  
  
The elevator rang suddenly, the doors sliding open, revealing the long hall way, with the long floor to ceiling windows at the end, The Thin Man moved to attempt to keep his composure, of course, moving first from the elevator, leading The King down the long hallway in silence. "A very nice place," he had remarked, looking upon the white walls with white doors, the tall window at the end of the hall. The Thin Man removed keys from his pocket, standing at the door, a moment, feeling a small rush of anxiety in the back of his head. For all he knew, this man could be plotting to kill him, or worse. "It's humble." he replied, opening the door to the softly lit amber room.  
  
"Not as lavish as one might expect in this side of town. The tall ceilings make up for it," The Thin Man didn't boast often of his home, but, he adored it, every accouterment, the smallest details in where he has planted his roots.  
  
"Very modern," The King smirked, pleased at the sound of his feet hitting hardwood floors - all the better for his intentions, his preference. The Thin Man closed the door behind The King, locking it. His phone buzzed in his pocket, text messages from Daughter Dearest (Take a picture of him I want to see!), he promptly ignored her request, the fact being this was...her boss was delicate. He had no intention of telling her of their collusion, seeing as their intentions were clear to each other from the very start, their nature evident. "Let me make you a drink, please, sit." The Thin Man began, sliding his jacket from his shoulders, resting it on a chair. The King did the same, donned in suspenders, looking up to the large paintings around the apartment.  
  
"Surprise me," he said, looking back over his shoulder as The Thin Man tended bar, two glasses of whiskey being poured swiftly. That voice of his, The King's, rather, his entire presence, exactly who he was, it wasn't what The Thin Man had expected at all - then again, he didn't know what he had expected from his, daresay, admirer. He held his composure, the sanctity of his apartment broken by his presence. Moving to approach The King, he handed him his glass, the gloved fingertips brushed against his. The King nodded in thanks, raising the glass in toast before sipping at the liquor. The burn was lovely, and they were both already well versed in drink, tonight. Still young, yet it was.  
  
The King moved to sit on the long, black leather couch, making himself at home, which, was well and good, seeing that his intention was domineering. If anything, making his way into the nest of his potential submissive was a good place to start; and seeing that The Thin Man had already made such an impression, he figured it only a matter of time. "How long have you been doing this?" The King asked, waving a hand dismissively.  
  
"Doing what?" The Thin Man asked slowly, watching him, watching where The King's throat met his collar, looking back up to watch his lips as he spoke.  
"Putting yourself up on display for the masses," he swirled the drink in his glass, looking to it briefly as it moved beneath his touch. "You certainly seem far too composed and professional to indulge in such behavior. Not that that's a bad thing, of course, it just makes me wonder what your intention is." he smirked, his dark eyes narrowing.  
The Thin Man watched him almost complacently. "Simply indulgence." he shrugged, his answer was simple enough, there wasn't any hidden ulterior motive, not before The King came along. Then again, ulterior motive was more rather a mutual understanding of the other. Like a glove, truly. "I have a lot of pride, perhaps."  
  
"Self indulgence, vanity, maybe?" The King said, his turn for his eyes to wander. The Thin Man crossed his legs as he watched his eyes, sipping at his glass. "Certainly," he said, plainly.  
There was a silence between them, for a moment, The King watching him, pursing his lips a moment. "Well," he started, as if he were beginning a meeting. His voice was low, his voice was dark. "That much is evident, that you have self indulgent tendencies. Not that that is a bad thing, actually, it works quite in my favor. Seeing as that you love to show off, take your clothes off for me." The King was blunt, but, in matters of rule, he made his desires and wants evident - it was who he was, it was what he deserved, it was his key to obtaining The Thin Man.  
  
Watching as The King spoke, The Thin Man's eyes flicked from his glass, up to his face, feeling the air leave his lungs through parted lips. He stood, resting his drink upon the coffee table. Beginning with his shoes, he toed them off, kicking them to the side, socks following shortly after. No questions, good, that was a good sign. Then again, if The Thin Man weren't interested, then he would have made that evident from the very get go, before they even arrived at dinner. The King was set to tame him. The Thin Man stood in front of him, beginning to work the buttons at his sleeves, resting his cuff links upon the table, The King looking up to him, lounged back on the couch, drink in hand, he looked ever the villain. The Thin Man looked back down to him with stoicism, loosening his tie before sliding it from his collar, setting it to the side. He was careful with his garments, plus taking his time would savor this command. The first of many, that was apparent.  
  
His shirt was gone next, his trousers and undergarments soon following, The Thin Man's face composed, his figure perhaps almost spiritual, in some way. The King's lips slid into a hearty smirk, the last of his drink, a healthy swig sliding into his mouth. He was quiet for a long while, admiring the pseudo-adonis that stood before him, a creature prepared to worship him and his works and submit to his desires. "That was much easier than I had anticipated," The King laughed, The Thin Man's lip twitched into a short smirk.  
"Somehow defying you seems out of the question. Unless you want me to play hard to get."  
  
"You've done enough of that already." The King's eyes narrowed, moving to sit up and forward, gloved hand reaching to grip at the thin middle of the man, sliding slowly against his ribs. "Were I a man of God," The King chuckled. "I might worship that body." Inhaling sharply, he hummed softly as The Thin Man looked down at him, tilting his head. The leather against his skin was welcomed, he could feel a slight twitch in his gut with the touch.  
  
"Now," The King started, pressing his face to The Thin Man's middle, inhaling sharply - he intended to memorize every last piece of him, to own him entirely - every mark and contusion and every bend in his bones wrapped with his skin. "I intend to claim you for myself, and only myself." Leaning back and away, his gloves sliding away from The Thin Man's hips. "This...habit of yours, indulging in the attention of others on you," he growled softly as The Thin Man swayed his hips in his direction. "That stops today. I'm breaking you of that habit."  
  
"And what a shame that is," The Thin Man didn't hesitate a response. Of course, his words meant nothing, really, of course, without that outlet, there wouldn't be anything to bait him closer, would there? The King saw that as a sort of...retort, so to speak. Tilting his head as his eyes narrowed. "You speak as if though you've already claimed me," The Thin Man could tug onto his strings just as hard, egging him on for more, more, he wanted to see what he was made of, why he felt he should be the one to dominate and own him.  
  
"I get what I want, that's how this works." The King uttered, a leather hand moving to grip around the wrist of The Thin Man, "I'm going to break you, tonight," in a swift motion, The King's grasp upon his thin wrist tightened, pulling him down with a rough jerk of his arm. The drink was swimming full and entirely between them, feeling his cheeks flush, The Thin Man's form already swaying where he had stood composed. Soon enough, when The King pulled on his wrist, The Thin Man was in his lap, The King manhandling him to press his back down hard against his thighs, splayed and bent over his knee.  
  
The Thin Man said nothing, turning his head to look back at The King, twisting as his bones were bent and his form so pliant beneath the hands of The King, a pretty porcelain doll. The King held his arms behind his back, The Thin Man quick to grasp either of his wrists, holding himself here at his will. The more he willed himself to submit, the more fulfilling this could be. At this rate, The Thin Man for a moment hadn't thought it could potentially go awry. Especially now. He gasped, feeling the twist, the grip on his arm tighten, his bones moving and twisting underneath his skin. A soft moan left his lips, rolling his pelvis against The King's lap. Fighting for the throne, it seemed.  
  
The hand that occupied the glove slid against the skin on display before him, sliding along The Thin Man's thighs, gripping them tightly, sliding up to the small of his back. "Interesting, you know, that out of everything you show off, out of all of your acts and behaviors," The King seethed, feeling a warmth wrap around his spine, gripping The Thin Man's ass tightly, causing another small sound, another roll of his hips. The King shushed him gently, the skin under his hand complying so well. Suddenly, he swatted his hand down harsh and afflicting onto The Thin Man's behind. The lesser form hadn't expected it, his back jolting forward as a short cry left him. The King shushed him again, "Quiet, the neighbors will hear." he smirked, swatting his hand down again, the skin red with his impression. The Thin Man shook beneath him, The King holding him in place over his knee. "Out of all of your acts and your behaviors," he started again, his hand rubbing the print left behind on his ass. "No one has come here to punish you, no one has come here to claim you." he hummed softly, spanking him once, twice, three times again, in a row. The Thin Man's back arched up, his cock beginning to become painfully pressed between them. "I suppose it doesn't really matter, now that I'm here to do so, huh?" The Thin man trembled beneath him, turning his head to look back at him.  
  
"No," The King said, pointing his finger in front of The Thin Man. "Eyes forward." Another strike down on him, his arse red and throbbing, he would be bruised here. He spoke to him like a dog; good, that was his intention. This wasn't the time for professional pleasantries and the like, he was here for a purpose, and The Thin Man had said nary a peep, especially not in protest. The King smirked, The Thin Man's eyes moving forward, his eyes finding the wall in front of him, unable to suppress a smirk. The King continued to strike down upon him, The Thin Man's response hoarse from his throat. He was hard, his cock pressed between his belly and The King's legs. Surely his precome has stained his trousers, which could potentially make things worse.  
  
"Up," The King started, swatting The Thin Man's behind, moving to loosen his own tie, sliding it from his neck. Setting it to the side, he stood, catching his breath, clearing his throat a moment. Waving his hand in a motion, The Thin Man turned, arching his back to look at the mark left behind. Red and dark, it would bruise certainly without any doubt. Sitting would be a challenge. It stung, The Thin Man hissed a moment under his breath. Looking forward at The King, he twisted a face before his eyes began to wander, looking down to see the protrusion in his pants. Looking back up to The King, he smirked, a thin hand reaching forward, fingertips barely touching the fabric where his cock had made its impression. The King slapped his hand away, his free hand moving to grip The Thin Man's hair tightly. With a quick motion, he pulled at The Thin Man's head none too gently, a cry leaving his throat. The King smirked, tugging him along, practically yanking him across the hard wood floor.  
  
The Thin Man stumbled, catching himself on his feet, stumbling to his knees. The King moved to continue to drag him along, finding The Thin Man's physique quite easy to mold beneath his hands. Stopping before the bed, he released The Thin Man from his grasp - he almost collapsed, his knees red, bruising beneath his skin. He hissed, another short moan leaving him as his limbs shook, clamoring up onto the bed, The King directing him with a flick of his hand. Unbuttoning his shirt, he looked down to The Thin Man, who looked up at him, exposed on his back, cock bobbing against his stomach, biting his lip wantonly. His ribs pushed out against his skin with his heavy breath, his disheveled face begged for him.  
  
"You going to fuck me or what?" his voice rasped, The King breaking from his sudden and evident trance - Eyes narrowing, he tossed his shirt and tie aside, The Thin Man humming softly. Reaching down, The King suddenly brought the back of his hand down upon The Thin Man's gaunt face. He winced, his eyes clenching shut before smirking, a chuckle sounding deep from his throat.  
"Stretch yourself open for me," The King ordered, ridding himself of his pants. The Thin Man's lithe features stretched to reach for the night stand, squirting lube onto his hand before he caught The King's attention, watching him stroke his hand along his cock, at the sight of The Thin Man stretched against the bed. Arching his back up, The Thin Man spread his legs apart, rubbing the lube against his entrance, pressing a finger inside with a short gasp. His toes curled, working his finger in and out of himself, looking up to The King with desire - he hadn't thought much about the thought of this mysterious individual fucking him or making him his play thing, he simply found him entertaining, it certainly gave him something to do. Of course, he wasn't disappointed with the results. Especially not now. Pressing another finger inside, he arched his arse up from the bed, pressing into The King's direction, watching him smug, so very complacent as his breath hitched, his hand curled around his cock.  
  
"Enough," The King started, pulling The Thin Man's hand away, pinning it above his head as he moved to position himself on top of him, pressing himself inside slowly. Inhaling sharply, The Thin Man's back arched back, pressing himself against The King's cock, hungering for more of him. The Thin Man, clever thing, moved to press his free hand under the grasp of The King with the other, his legs snaking around his hips. "Fuck-" he murmured, The King clasping his hand over his mouth, hearing his patron moan underneath him. Pulling himself away, he pushed himself harder inside, beginning a terrible rhythm upon him. What a night, The Thin Man thought - he was certain he'd get fucked but he hadn't expected any of this - The King was clever, The King had been planning this, of course, so - he had an advantage, didn't he? He looked down to see his cock pushing inside of The Thin Man, feeling him tighten around him. Generous enough, his hand moved to pump at The Thin Man's cock to meet the rhythm of his fucking him.  
  
Inspiration hit him, moving to pull himself away from the small figure beneath him, forcibly twisting him onto his stomach, to which The Thin Man responded by arching his arse up into the air, back up against the hips of The King. Such a contrast they had, the tanned and full and modeled physique of The King, compared to the rail thin and pale character of his counterpart. No matter, he just longed for how lovely it would feel for The Thin Man to tremble and break under his hands and his body. Pressing his face down into the bed, The King was growing close, now, his breathing thick and heavy. Writhing beneath him, The Thin Man moaned at the pressure building in his gut, The King's hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. His legs outstretched, he rolled his hips forward in compliance with The King's rhythm.  
  
"Beg-" The King breathed, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow, the impact between the two of them harsh and afflicting. He could grant him this privilege, as long as The Thin Man asked nicely. "Beg." he announced again, his only response a rasped breath from the figure beneath him. The King nested his fingers into The Thin Man's dark hair, pulling his head up and away from the bed, a choked sound leaving his slender throat. His hands clamored for purchase, gripping the sheets tightly. "Please-!" The Thin Man moaned, feeling The King man stop his hand, gripping the base of his cock tightly.  
  
"Please, what?" The King lifted him higher, pulling him back flush against him, his teeth grinning at The Thin Man's ear.  
"Please - " he rasped, "Please- let me come-"  
The King tuttered his tongue, beginning to pull himself from The Thin Man. "Not good enough." The Thin Man let another sound escape him, very audible in this exchange, it seemed. He instinctively pressed himself back against The King, rolling his head back against his shoulder, resting there, neither of them moving - his eyes clenched shut as he could feel the grip on his cock tighten. "May I come, please-" The Thin Man whispered, turning his head to press his nose against The King's ear. "Please, sir-"  
There was a moment of still and silence between them, The King's hand slid around The Thin Man's middle, fingers sliding along his protruding ribs, his fingers sliding to wrap around his throat. He pushes his cock full and deep inside of him, the utterance of that word, that proclamation - it became The King's undoing. Sliding his hand along The Thin Man's shaft, his thumb pressing against the slit of the head of his cock. The Thin Man gasped, his hips thrusting forward, his cock throbbing as he came, The King's hand bringing it along his shaft, making a mess of him with it. The King felt The Thin Man begin to release tension, beginning to tremble under him. To which The Thin Man began to wither under The King's hands, sliding back down into the bed.  
  
Instantly, he felt The King grip his hips tightly into the now limp, pliant figure beneath him. Lifting his hips he fucked into him faster, and could feel The Thin Man tighten around him, a wanton sound leaving him as he came. He exhaled, rubbing The Thin Man's hips as he milked himself inside of him. Withdrawing himself when he was finished, he smeared the come that leaked from The Thin Man along his thighs, removing himself to stand back up, again, from the bed. Clearing his throat, The King padded across the floor to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Feeling so pleasantly used and so lithe in his form, The Thin Man sighed softly as he twisted himself into a proper sleeping position. He figured The King may leave, now that their soiree was over, so he would imagine. He heard The King turn on the water for the shower, The Thin Man listening to the sound as he curled around his knees - not feeling the shifting weight of the bed by the time he had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was really high when i wrote the last couple parts i am so sorry - final chapter


	7. Chapter 7

The morning would rocket itself into The Thin Man's wake so suddenly, his internal clock raising his blood pressure into the jolt of the morning. His eyes clenched shut, anxious as he shifted in his bed, his hands clamoring for the night stand. No phone - he had no idea what time it was, but yet he knew it was time to wake up. He padded himself into the bathroom, the milky clouds outside breaching the window brightly - he hadn't drawn any curtain to shield him, but, evidently it hadn't made much difference. Still, he continued on to the bathroom and had not even noticed the warm, sleeping form in his bed.

It was alarming, almost, shifting beneath the sheets and into the waking life. Leaving the bed, The Thin Man turned to pick articles of clothing off of the floor when he had realized the shirt in his hand was not his. Turning back to the bed, the sight of the sleeping form of The King surprised him; he wasn't prepared for that. He figured him to leave - with that pretty face, with that social standing. that ego, fuck. The Thin man thought, picking the rest of his clothes up from the floor, folding them and laying them out nicely on the couch to avoid any sort of disarray. Although being on the floor all night may contribute to that.

The tall apartment building was quiet, save for the soft strides of The Thin Man's feet into the bathroom nearby. He shut the door softly, flicking on the fluorescent lights, the blue walls surrounding him. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he saw his skin embellished, marred with the marks of another - not something he was used to seeing. It made him pause, watching as if he wanted so terribly to cover them up; like someone else was watching, like someone else would find them. Strange, yet he had been alone for so very long, there was no one to find these things - perhaps that was why The King left them, claiming his skin, claiming the bones of The Thin Man. Sighing softly he ran warm water in the sink, washing his face, sliding himself into an old shirt before returning out into the open.

The apartment was small, a couch, a television, his large bed on the other side of the room, and a bar which housed his kitchen, the door to the bathroom and the door to leave - it wasn't much, it was everything that he needed. The Thin Man's opportunity to keep himself quiet while The King rested was slim - of course he was surprised not to see him stir when he was beginning to pull a pan from his cabinet, pulling out various supplies to begin cooking - it was the least he could do, certainly, for his company through the night - for the fact that he hadn't left. Why, he wondered.

Was it because he was genuinely serious about breaking The Thin Man? About collaring him and keeping him his pet? He'd heard it all before but it the evidence was startling, at this point. He was trying his best not to think about it, there was no point - The Thin Man would send him on his way and there would be nary a peep, especially for someone so self indulgent. Plus, seeing that The King was his daughter's boss, there was room for complication. He wasn't a fortune teller, the future was fickle and ever changing.   
Eggs were cracked on the sides of the pan, fried over hard (he didn't have much food, he rarely shopped for groceries), along side another pan with bacon - it had been an age since he had even cooked breakfast for himself, really - spare another. A loud yawn sounded away from The Thin Man, craning his head around the corner to see The King rustled and stretched into the morning, looking out the window. The aroma of coffee began filling the apartment, the taller figure well toned, well sculpted, The Thin Man had to keep himself from lingering his gaze. "I made coffee," he sounded, scooping the bacon from the pan, onto a plate.

"And breakfast," The King smirked, he didn't even have to ask.

The Thin Man smiled, watching The King move to sit at the bar, the two of them looking ever tired, ever drained. It was a long, rough night, and they had plenty to show for it. The Thin Man poured a mug of coffee, sliding it to The King, who smiled appreciatively.

"Why did you stay?" The Thin Man asked, not wasting any time, he dressed their plates with the food he prepared, napkins and silverware following, quite the display for something so meager. He set the plate in front of The King, who stared at him, his eyes almost unmoving.

"Because you said you're not a prostitute." Sleep was apparent in The King's voice, morning stubble apparent on his face. "My reasons for coming here won't be met with early departure. I intend to use as much time that I have as possible."

The Thin Man listened with disbelief, nipping a piece of bacon, he watched him in return, before shrugging. Not much else to say, really. Whatever The King's reasons were, The Thin Man wasn't about to shoo him away. He poured himself a cup of coffee, leaning on the counter in front of the bar, opposite The King, who seemed well contented with his meal.

His reasons for lingering were evident, he meant what he said. There wasn't much evidence otherwise - there was no reason for him to justify himself further. Of course he would leave within the next hour, business to take care of otherwise, he was a CEO after all. His personal time was few and far between, and he intended to use it to his advantage. "Do you like what you do?" The King asked, leaving the question awfully ambiguous.

The Thin Man interpreted it as his view on his career, and, whether The King meant it that way or not, The Thin Man would answer with that option. He smirked. "I do," he slid his plate away from himself, before moving to take it and rinse it in the sink. "I'm successful, I like what I do," he turned back to The King, taking his cleaned plate as well. "I'm sure you can relate to that,"

The King smirked, slowly, his eyes narrowing. He looked ever predatory, but, The Thin Man wasn't about to kneel, he wasn't about to show his belly. "You're damn straight I can," there was that treacherous ego again, evidently. The Thin Man almost rolled his eyes at him - there was something comforting about the confidence that permeated from The King, something that was so entirely relieving. The Thin Man set his cleaning aside, he could do this later, moving to pad his bare feet around the bar, walking behind The King, watching his freckled back leaning over the edge, The Thin Man almost paused a moment - the morning was a lovely feature upon The King. He said beside him at the bar, his thin fingers wrapped around his mug as he brushed strands of hair behind his ear, crossing his ankles.

There was a silence that was apparent between them, before The King spoke. "I've been in this business, this life that I lead for far too long, it feels as if though there was nothing at all before it." he scratched at his chest, turning his head to look at The Thin Man. "There is an art to deciphering man, looking at someone and being able to find their triggers into their faults, their motivations." he paused, shaking his head. "Looking at you, it's impossible,"

The Thin Man smirked, tilting his head in The King's direction. "Is that what draws you to me?"  
"Maybe, maybe not," The King shrugged. "Maybe you're just a good lay, maybe there's nothing underneath."  
Pausing, The Thin Man shrugged, almost ashamed that all The King knew of him was his carnal nature. "We'll have to wait and see," he said, he shouldn't have, he sounded hopeful - he must have been imposing, watching The King nod with a tilt of his head, pursing his lips - The Thin Man watched the sun caked with clouds shine white through the floor to ceiling window, accenting The King's features, and even in his state of early rise, he looked ever regal.  
"Thank you for staying," The Thin Man smiled, almost embarrassed. The King shrugged kindly, of course, he knew that it was the least he could do. His phone began to buzz across the room, in his pocket, his alerts that were held on mute through the night sounding in an array. "That's my cue," The King said, smirking as he moved to stand (naked as the day he was born, shameless) and dig around in his pockets, making a phone call as he began dressing himself. The Thin Man turned away from him, moving to stand and begin washing dishes, wiping off the stove.

He did his best not to listen to the conversation The King was having, although it sounded important. Not that he had any idea what he was talking about - The Thin Man wondered if he were talking to Daughter Dearest, what a laugh that would be. Small world, indeed. Such small, almost insignificant things that harbored The Thin Man's mind when there were so many more things happening in the world. He watched The King gather himself, sighing in an almost bittersweet sense - no, this was silly - he would never see him again, probably.

"Is my tie straight?" The King asked, dressed in his clothes from the night before, black tie, black suit, it accented him quite well, The Thin Man would have to ask for the number to his tailor. His fingers moved to adjust the knot at The King's neck, his strong jaw lifted in response, a smirk on his lips as his eyes looked down at The Thin Man, tired and disheveled, and yet so wonderfully imperfectly marked by him.

The marks he left would be a lovely reminder, he hoped he wouldn't lose them too quickly. "It's Saturday," The Thin Man said, smiling. "And you're flying off like a busy bee." He smoothed his hands over The King's lapels, walking him to the door. "A king doesn't sleep in the face of his prosperity." he smirked, watching The Thin Man from behind, watching his calves, his thighs, his fingers left bruises on him and they were a lovely dark purple, so very contrasting to his pale skin.  
"Suppose you have a point," The Thin Man unlocked the door, allowing The King out. "Thank you for inviting me out." The Thin Man was peeking from behind his guard at his guest, he had to be careful. Sliding his feet back into his shoes, The King stood in The Thin Man's doorway, not quite leaving.  
"Behave," he pointed a finger. The Thin Man smirked, leaning from the doorway toward him, kissing the finger that threateningly pointed at him, looking up at the taller figure. The King withdrew his hand, The Thin Man not wasting any further time as he moved his feet toward him, leaning up to kiss The King, soft and unwarranted and yet he did not move, smirking against The Thin Man's lips. The hall was empty, the large window next to the door revealing the busy streets below. The Thin Man didn't move, The King remaining still against him. Without word, The Thin Man slid himself away, his gaze held on The King as he shut the door, latching his locks back up in a swift motion. The King barely had time to register his movement, but he didn't linger long, either, his feet leading him off down and toward his car, his head suddenly jarred with a plague.  
The Thin Man looked at his apartment, quiet, silence permeating as he surveyed the disarray from their rendezvous, his bed terribly torn apart, empty glasses left idle in on the coffee table. Retrieving them, he moved them to the sink, a heavy clatter of glass hitting metal, before he slid himself away, peeling the tattered shirt from his shoulders as he fell back into his bed, covering himself entirely with his white sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude tell me if you want a sequel alright because if i leave it like this i will feel incomplete forever AND PLEASE THROW IDEAS AT ME I lOVE THAT SHIT THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING YOURE THE BOMB


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